


The Taste of You

by alexdamien



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4207041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexdamien/pseuds/alexdamien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>France wants to think that everything is alright. England knows it is not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taste of You

The bright eyes of Paris opened to France as soon as the sun set on the horizon. Awake and alive, with hearts that beat a symphony that warmed his blood.

France laughed, smiling down at his luminous city from the top of the Eiffel tower, without paying any mind to the freezing wind around him.

“Bloody drama queen,” said a voice behind him, and England floated down, holding two plastic cups in his hands.

“Excuse me?” asked France, lifting an eyebrow at him, while an amused smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.

“You only come here to whine, and pretend like it’s enough for you that all those humans are happy when you’re not,” said England, handing him one of the cups.

France took off the lid. It looked like hot chocolate. He sniffed it and coughed at the scent of burnt milk and cheap brandy

“What is this? Are you trying to poison me?” asked France, putting the lid back on.

England glared at him, a soft blush tinting his cheeks. “It’s hot chocolate. I… spiked it a bit.”

“To cover the taste of burnt milk?”

“If you don’t want it, I’ll drink it myself,” muttered England, taking a sip of his own.

France scoffed a laugh at the reminder that England didn’t have a sense of taste.

“It’s alright,” said France, shaking his head. “Maybe I’ll end up liking it.”

“Like this tower?” asked England.

“Like this tower,” repeated France.

He had hated it at first. An ugly stain on his landscape. But now, he couldn’t imagine himself without it. “And like many other things. Like this endless existence we are burdened with… And like you.”

Before England could complain, France kissed him.

He tasted of awful hot chocolate, cheap brandy, and pure joy.

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by the lovely aph-lietuva over at my Tumblr.  
> If you liked this little fic, please consider leaving kudos or a comment. It would mean a lot to me.


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